Darkness Dealt Me Hell
by Faberry's-Knight
Summary: A serial rapist and murderer is on the loose, jumping from place to place and leaving the world dumfounded. So what will happen when he comes to Lima and sets his sights on Rachel? And what're really his motives? Est. Faberry, G!P and Punk!Quinn, Cheerio!Rachel... And Finn bashing cause it's fun
1. Chapter 1

**Here's the new story I wrote about in the chapter of one of my stories.**

**It reflects nothing about my religious views or beliefs and I hope you won't find any offense from it.**

**I'm writing it down by hand and not on my iPod, so the wait between chapters will be somewhat longer than usual.**

**As always, tell me if you like it.**

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His green gaze quickly sweeps over the crowded bar, looking for someone. Who? He doesn't know, but he will when he sees them.

The alcohol swirling in his glass glows mixed blues, greens and reds from the strobe lights above him, the beat of the bass making ripples across the amber liquid.

His eyes immediately catch onto a pair of black holes, an intense fire flickering at their very backs.

The gaunt character stands offset to the darkness by his pale skin, pulled so tight it seemed ready to break against the bones.

He is dressed like any young gent in this club, with darks jeans and a blood red shirt, his bony fingers holding onto a cup full of a dark red liquid.

An emancipated finger then points to a spot somewhere on his right. He turns to look.

An extatic redhead jumps about to the rumbling bass, her body shining with a thin layer of sweat.

Cold greens rake over her body, eating up the smooth, milky skin, the tones muscles underneath. The generous swell of the girl's breast begs for his attention and he immediately knows why: a gold cross dangles from the delightful neck.

He smirks. He's got his first target.

****o-O-o****

"Breaking news: the body of a redhead female was found earlier today in room number 274 in the Hotel Neptune Business, in Saint Petersburg, Russia. The body was bare and the room presented no signs of struggle. The woman had an inverted pentagram on the center of the chest, just above her breasts. There were no signs of rape. To this moment, the police have no leads."

He shuts the television, a satisfied smile on his face.

His Master will be pleased.

He sighs deeply, remembering just how he took the girl.

****Flashback****

He walks towards the girl, his step stealthy, like a lion preparing to pounce on his unsuspecting prey.

Finally reaching her, he steps up behind her, fingers lightly holding her hip, breath ghosting over the woman's neck.

"Mind if I buy you a drink, miss?"

She giggle before biting he lip, her eyes glinting with mischief. "I don't know if I can trust you not to drug me. You may be a serial rapist for all my knowledge." She winks.

He chuckles, _You've got no idea, darling._ "Oh, I am. I'm planning on taking you to bed with me tonight and defile you in every way imaginable."

"I'm having Cuba Libre, easy on the ice." She tells him.

He nods and makes his way to the bar. "One Cuba Libre, lay off the ice and a White Russian on the rocks."

The bartender nods before quickly making the drinks.

Downing his at the bar, he turns and goes back to his redhead.

He watches as he sips her drink, a smile playing at her lips. Placing the glass on the table, she grabs his hand and pulls him more into the dance floor.

Their bodies are heating up fast, the alcohol and cramped space making their temperature rise steadily.

Her plump ass grinds into his crotch, making him release a strangled growl. His hands anchor on her hips, moving them faster against his growing erection.

Using a hand to sweep her hair out of his way, he buries his head on her neck, his moist breath sending chills down her spine. His tongue licks a hot, broad stripe up the length of flesh before battering her pulse point with the slimy organ.

"What do you say we get out of here?" He grunts audibly at the insinuation behind her question and squeezes her hips in agreement.  
The thump-thumping of the bass gets lost as they their way out of the club.

****o-O-o****

They reach their room locked in a passionate embrace, his lips going o town on her neck.

Forcefully, he pushes her to the bed, seeing her bounce as he starts to strip in front of her lustful gaze.

The first articles to go are his shoes and socks, quickly followed by his shirt. He smiles smugly to himself as he sees her eyes drinking in the sight of his smooth and muscles torso.

Taking off his belt and inviting and unzipping his pants, he leaves her hanging as he makes his way to her.

She kisses him back when he presses his lips roughly against hers, hearing and feeling te tearing of her dress under his ferocious hands.

Palming the braless breasts, he takes one in his mouth, his newly freed hand stroking himself though his clothes. He feels himself twitch violently at the knowledge of what's to come next.

Sliding his hand to her shoulders, he easily forces her to her knees, her head before his groin.

Eagerly latching her mouth to the prominent bulge in his briefs, she licks thorough the black cloth, feeling the hardened member get even harder under her tongue.

He pushes his briefs down to mid-thigh and pulls his reddened and weeping cock out from its cotton confines.

The redhead, not wasting a second, takes the penis in her mouth, instantly pushing as far down as she could. He groans when he feels the girl take him more than halfway down, her hand stroking the length she can't take down her throat.

Fisting her hair, he violently pumps his dick inside her mouth, viciously face-fucking her.

The hands on his thighs futilely try to get him to stop, but he pushes on, bringing her face against his lower abdomen, effectively pushing his member completely inside her mouth, choking her.

Tears fall from the girl's eyes, running her mascara.

He pulls out of her mouth, keeping a hand on her head. His free hand jacking himself off, he uses his other hand to guide her towards his ballsack.

Harshly, he pushes her face against his scrotum, simultaneously pushing his balls against her face.

Like a tamed dog, she licks his testicles, nuzzling them with her nose as he groans above her.

_It should kick in about... now._ She goes limp on her knees and he picks her up, taking her to the bed.

He hears a whisper in his ear. "You'll not spawn this one. She's not pure. Kill her and sacrifice her soul to me."

"Yes, my Lord."

The presence leaves, taking the dark it had brought with him.

The man grabs himself and jacks off, putting the dick at the girl's entrance and cruelly pushing in.

He pounds inside of her and is thankful for the fact that she ha become wet while she sucked him off. _Makes it that much easier to fuck her properly,_ he thinks as he keeps pounding into the girl's pussy.

Pulling out, he flips we over with ease, aided by his highly-toned muscles.  
Mounting her from behind, he keeps fucking her, his groans and grunts the only thing filling the otherwise quite room.

Mentally thanking the girl below him for renting the room under her name, he licks a finger and teases the girl's asshole, licking the finger again and pushing it fully inside the girl's ass.

Quickly pushing a second finger, he pants at the tightness that grips his digits.

Switching places, he pushes his meat inside the puckered asshole, choking back a moan at the tight heat that greeted his penis.

Flipping her back onto her back, he goes to his pants, he picks them up and pulls out a switchblade and a roll of silver tape, throwing the cloth onto his shoes.

Pulling a long piece of tape, he tapes her arms to the headboard.

Pushing the unconscious redhead's legs up and holding theme it's his spread legs, he takes the switchblade and carves upon her chest an inverted pentagram, bending down and licking the blood that manates from the knife wounds.

He pushes harder back into the redhead's bare pussy, pounding faster and faster, getting closer and closer to his climax.

Letting out an inhuman roar, he spills his semen inside of her at the same time as he wraps his hands around her throat and squeezes.

His orgasm intensifies as he feels the pliant flesh give way beneath his fingers, until the unmistakable feeling of the windpipe breaking.

He cleans himself off and leaves the room, knowing no one would recognize him since he had buried his face in the girl's neck as they signed in. _Just perfect,_ he smiles.

****End Flashback****

Smirking darkly and willing his prominent erection to go down, e changes the channel and smiles at his next location.

"Germany here I come." He whispers in the dark.

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**This is the first chapter, I hope you liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 is good to go. Just a little background story on our little rapist... Then there's going to be a times jump to get started on the real story.**

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Brody Weston had always been a dork.

How couldn't he?

Growing up he had been lanky, with buck teeth, a serious case of acne and an even more serious case of a home at the edge of breaking.

As a child, he had never seen his parents angry at each other, much less as pissed as he had seen them in his mid-teens.

Yet there was nothing he could do when he was seen as the problem.

On one hand, his father claimed that his mother doted on him too much and that's why he couldn't do anything.

His mother, on the other hand, assured his father thy such a claim wasn't true; and shot back his father's necessity to always set an impossibly high bar for young Brody to even attempt, let alone reach.

But they didn't separate; they just had minimal contact, with Brody and between them.

So when Brody started to feel desire for one of the girls in his class and started getting morning wood and mid-day boners, he had no one to turn to.

He tried talking to her, giving her flowers and writing little notes to leave in her locker, and she seemed to find that cute.

Yet she shrugged of Brody and readily accepted when she was asked out by Walter Gallagher, the quarterback of their high school team.

He acted like being slanted by his crush didn't hurt, while inside he burnt with jealousy every time he saw Amy, by then cheerleading captain, and Walter kissin or holding hands.

His house was starting to become a hell to live in, but not in the bad sense.

His parents had somehow rekindled their relationship and were so high on Cloud Nine that they didn't pay him any attention. Add that to the fact that they were almost always making love, only stopping to sleep, go to the bathroom, go to work and eat.

Walking around his slum-like neighborhood in San Diego had always been dangerous, but in the state he was, he had no reason left for his brain to feel fear.

Making his way down a low-lit street, he felt himself being grabbed and pulled sideways into a dark alley.

"Give us all ya got, boy, or we'll send ya back 'ome in pieces." Was yelled in his fearful face.

"I... I don't have anything, I swear!" He whimpered as a response.

"I ain't buyin' it, kid. Empty yer pockets." A scruffy voice that stank of cheap booze breathed in his face.

"I'm not lying! Please," he sobbed, "leave me alone."

"You heard him, gentleman. Leave the poor youth alone." A cold voice that sounded of death and despair, reeked of sulfur and tasted of blood reached his ears.

The group of men fled without saying a thing, an afraid and crying Brody left at the mercy of this living corpse.

"Do not be afraid. I only intend to help you." The man's voice now sounded soothing, like a way out for Brody.

"If you ever need help, here's my card." A black rectangle with bright red ink showed three numbers: 666.

Looking up again, the young Weston man saw himself alone in the alley.

****o-O-o****

Not thinking about the strange encounter let Brody focus on his school and home life.

He felt more at peace, his broken soul slowly healing, after almost 4 months of festering.

Until he heard the rumor, that later proved to be fact.

In the 5 months that Amy and Walter had been dating, she had finally given him her virginity and now they were expecting.

Like any responsible man, Walter had later proposed and they were due to marry at the end of the school year.

They would live together and raise a family, something awfully hard to do at the age of 16, with a lifetime ahead of them.

Yet they didn't mind waiting for their dreams.

This broke Brody.

Although he didn't say, deep down he harbored the hope that, one day, Amy and Walter would break up and shed turn to him for comfort. They would fall in love and would later marry, going to their chosen colleges or universities.

But that would never happen now.

One dark night, after cursing the whole world, he felt something in his jeans' pocket burn.

He took out the strange black card.

666.

In a moment of desperation, he grabbed his cellphone, locked his bedroom door and, with shaky fingers, dialed the number.

His phone glowed a blinding white and Brody dropped it as the object seared his palm with an unnatural heat.

Then, it all went black and the desperate teen found himself free-falling through the void that had consumed his bedroom. Looking down, his eyes widened when they caught a fiery dot in the distance.

In a second, he felt suspended in the vacuum.

The astounded teen took that second to look up, an shared staright into the bloody eyes of a grotesque, black creature.

Its head seemed to have messed with a cheese grater, the skin falling away at the randomest spots, the rotted muscle visible underneath, oozing pus and shoppers blood.

The body wasn't any better than the head. It bore a resemblance to it, but the torso and arms presented deep lacerations, the gashes exposing the bone.

Missing chunks of muscle littered the bound demon; on his legs, on his arms, his torso and even one at the side of the thick neck.

As Brody looks with bated breath, the demon roared, a spray of spot landing on the boy's cheek and throat, burning through him like acid would.

His journey south quickly restarted amidst his screams.

He landed in a heap on a gilded floor, and his sudden appearance brought about gasps and screams of surprise.

Picking his head up, he looked around him; a large number of beautiful and scantily clad women surrounded him, looking at him with unbridled lust and hunger.

He swallowed with difficulty as he food slowly, turning his was from side to side, observing how the women seemed to close in on him.

He stiffened when he felt hands on his chest, abdomen, arms and thighs; getting way to close to his groin for his liking.

"Ladies, ladies! Please, leave the boy in peace. He is, after all, our guest of honor." Said an obviously smiling voice, the same death-filled and coppery tune he had heard what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Do not fret, my beauties. I'll satisfy you once Mr. Brody and I are done chatting." He appeased them.

Brody made his way to the man's side, and started his barrage of questions. "Who are you? What were thode women? Where am I?"

The man smiled and the questioning boy felt as earring pain shoot up through his spine. "Have you not yet guessed, my boy?"

His eyes widened in fearful realization. "You're... you're Satan."

"Indeed I am. Those women were succubi, they'll fuck you dry, literally, so they can continue with their line. It was bad timing in your part to call at this hour." He admonished.

Brody shrunk under the devil's gaze.

"As for where you are, you can guess that as well."

The young teen asked as he remembered. "Why is the floor made of gold?"

"Because man lusts for it, they kill for it, they even fuck for it. This," he stomped on the floor, "is all the gold tainted by the blood and sin of mankind."

"What about silver?"

"Yes, they do these things for silver too, but they do them a lot less. Heaven's made of silver."

The teen's face morphed into one of confusion, at which Satan cleared up. "I used to live in Heaven before I was exiled. Damn it, boy, don't you know anything about the Bible?" He scoffed.

"...not really, no."

"These young people and their innate aversion for religion." He shook his was sadly, his black hair barely moving.

Brody was taken aback. "Wait! Shouldn't you applaud our so-called 'innate aversion to religion'?"

"No," he bellowed, the temperature rising in the already boiling pit of fire, "it's boring how easy it is now-a-days to lure youngsters like you to follow the path of sin. I want you to fight back, to resist temptation before submitting completely to it." He explained. Brody only assented.

"But more on that later. Now, the reason that brought you here is..." He trailed off, letting the teen fill him in.

"The girl I like is to be married to someone else, she's bearing his child and I'm so... so..." He growled angrily at his inability to express himself fully.

"Angry? Outraged? Irate?" The faint quirk of his lips betrayed his smile. "Jealous?"

Dropping his head, he mumbles. "Yes."

"Yes to what?"

"I'm jealous." He admitted.

Saab almost laughed. "I know, you exude envy and jealousy and it's absolutely delightful. The bittersweet taste of jealousy has no compassion. It's delicious!" He exclaimed.

Brody just looked even more confused.

"All the negative emotions inside yourself, the anger, the jealousy, the lust... It's all succulent to me, but I still want to know why do you feel like this? Explain it to me."

"You want to know why? Because Amy should've been MINE! Because that asshole of Walter Gallagher took her from me, in all senses of the word. She was supposed to give me her virginity, not him. So yeah! I'm fucking pissed t him for taking her, I'm jealous that he got to be her first time and..."

"The lust?" The devil inquired, amused at the boy's emotional explosion.

The fuming teen stayed quiet, staring Satan down with wild green eyes.

"My boy... You want to take Walter Gallagher's place in Amy Roserton's, soon to be Gallagher's, life. But that's not it, isn't it? You also had eyes for Stephanie, and Bailey, and Sophie, and Rose, and Emily... the list goes on and on. Not only did you want one girl in your bed, you wanted all of them. You still do!" Satan laughed at Brody's stoic face, tinted in pink.

"But," he continued, "all of them thought you were a freak, a dork that looked like he was about to come in his pants so they didn't pay you any attention. Add that to your home problems and I understand your need for an escape. What I don't get is why you came to me, for you must at least know that I don't help humans out of the kindness of my heart... if I had one. I make deals and the prices people pay for my help are unusually high... some can't even afford it."

"I don't care what your price is; I'll pay it at any cost." Brody jumped the gun.

"Alright, but now... what is it you want?" Lucifer posed the question, but waited for no answer. He continued uninterrupted. "Is it for girls to look at you and want you the way my succubi did? To feel desired and powerful when women gaze at you? Is that it?"

Brody nodded. "I want to have what all women want in a man: a hot body, good looks, brains... and a big cock."

"Done." Satan conceded.

"Just like that?" He hesitated.

"Of course not, but you said you'd be willing to get my help at any cost. Such cost is this: you'll have what you've asked for, but in return, you must build my army from your loins."

"What?"

"You'll fuck virgin women of my choosing, sacrifice their virginities to me and impregnate them with my spawn."

"What do you need an army for?"

"You ignorant mortal... the Judgment Day is coming, and all of Heaven well open to witness it. God and his angels will walk the Earth on that day and it'll be the only opportunity in eons for me to get into Heaven undeterred. I'll need an army for when the Holy Alarm goes off to call the angels back, they'll not get to me so easily."

"..."

"So, do we have a deal, young Mr. Weston?"

"Will you give me everything I ask for should I need it to get a woman?" He made an attempt to clear the air.

"Certainly. I'll give you riches beyond your wildest dreams, an undeniable sex appeal and anything else you might need to successfully impress and bed a girl."

"Okay, deal." They shook hands and a white light enveloped them.

Waking up back in his bed, Brody wondered if it had all been a dream.

Looking down at himself and seeing deeply carved muscles, he went to his bathroom, gazing in the mirror.

He touched his now handsome face, a sprinkling of stubble just beginning to sprout. His hard chest and washboard abs. And his impressive package.

And on his right wrist, a tattoo was seared into his flesh: it looked like a hazard symbol, but he could tell it was the number of the beast, the circle at the middle completing each individual six.

He gazed back at the mirror to find Satan staring at him. He wrote a word in the back of the reflective surface: Russia. Brody's first destination, with his respective first target.

And he couldn't wait.

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**Okay... who thought it was Brody? I recently decided to make the rapist Brody instead of having a random OC...**


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